


The Gift of Paradise

by captainschmoop



Category: The 13th Warrior (1999)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-01
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainschmoop/pseuds/captainschmoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://smallfandomfest.livejournal.com/">smallfandomfest's</a> prompt: Ahmed stays in the north.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift of Paradise

The battle had been won, though not without cost. 

Ahmed watched as the clean up continued, heart heavy. They had had a funeral for Buliwyf last night, gave the king the respects he deserved and then some, and tomorrow he would be leaving with the those who remained of the thirteen. 

As much as the thought of the sea on the rampage made his stomach uneasy, he'd be glad to leave this place. Though, perhaps not permanently. The memories were too raw, and he felt he needed a breather, to let them sink and settle, enough that he could look back and smile as his companions do now. 

"Arab," Edgtho called, pulling Ahmed out of his musings. 

"Edgtho," he greeted, turning to the tall man, offering him a small smile. 

"Have you made preparations for the voyage?" Edgtho looked him over, eye critical but not unkind. 

It made Ahmed smile, being shown the concern of a friend instead of one of annoyance. "I have, though my stomach might not be as prepared for the trip." Remembering the rough waters made his smile fade a little. 

Edgtho, though, smiled. "Better ask Herger for strategies, for he won't be able to help you once out into the water." 

Brow furrowing, Ahmed blinked. "Why not?" 

Edgtho's eyes searched his face. "Because he chooses to stay." 

For a moment, one that seemed to stretch impossibly long to the Arab, Ahmed did nothing. "When are we off?" He heard himself ask after that long second, his voice eerily foreign even to his own ears. 

Eyes narrowing minutely, Edgtho turned his attention out to the shore, despite the fact it could not be clearly seen, even with his keen eyes. "Midday," he said as he turned, deeming the conversation over and walking away. 

"Why so late?" Ahmed called after him, used to the particulars of the Northmen enough not to take offense.

"Tradition," was all the man said. 

Ahmed stared after him, bewildered – not just about the time of their departure, but about Herger's choice to stay. He'd heard no tell of the possibility of any of them staying, thought that they had drunk and saluted to the farewells of their fallen companions only last night. 

Had he missed something? 

Recounting his own memories in his head, Ahmed tried to find some clue that would've told him about Herger's decision, but he could find none. However, that wasn't entirely saying much, as he'd had a few cups of mead too many, his memories as hazy as his senses had been. 

In any case, he decided to look for Weath, wondering if perhaps the redheaded warrior could educate him on the tradition of which Edgtho spoke.

Finding the man was easy; now that the danger had passed, Weath lay about out in the open in village, on hay or grass, even the mud, as he carved something that began to look like a bear each time Ahmed viewed it. 

Looking up from his current position on a soft patch of grass, Weath grinned. "Looks like my daughter will do without a knife, eh Arab," he called as Ahmed neared, his hand briefly pausing its movement. 

The corners of Ahmed's mouth twitched upward. Weath had that infectious grin, and even in the beginning, he could make Ahmed smile, lightening whatever mood he'd had. The only other who could do so was Herger. 

"If it would please her, she can have mine," he said lightly, playing in on the jest. Of course, he'd be willing to give up his sword should Weath genuinely want it for her. 

Weath blinked, head tilting just so. "And what would you have to defend yourself?" 

"My wit," Ahmed answered simply. 

Throwing his head back slightly, Weath laughed, big and loud. 

"Careful," Ahmed warned, eyebrow raised, "I might take offense." He couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his lips, however, as Weath continued to chuckle. 

"I meant none! I merely picture you doing so, winning your battles with your foes looking defeat in the eye with confusion." The grin Weath wore brightened. "It would be a sight to see." 

Something in Weath's voice made Ahmed uneasy, his tone light, sincere, almost wistful; it was almost as if the man expected never to see him again. "Edgtho says we're to leave at midday," he said instead of questioning the words, and as far as smooth transitions went, it was not his best. 

Raising an eyebrow, possibly in alarm – one never could tell with Weath – Weath slowly nodded. "Did he," he drawled, regarding Ahmed curiously, almost calculating. 

"He did," Ahmed confirmed, confused even more. "Why are we leaving so late?" 

Weath stared at him for a few seconds, eyes searching his face before flickering over Ahmed's shoulder. Shrugging, Weath stood, a secretive smirk on his lips. "Tradition, most like." He clasped Ahmed on the shoulder as he too left the conversation before Ahmed was finished. 

Northmen, he thought, both fond and exasperated. 

If Edgtho and Weath would not tell him anything, he'd go to Herger. The man usually had the patience to explain their customs to him, and hopefully, this would be no exception.

"Is there a tradition of leaving during midday?" he asked when he _finally_ found him lounging just outside the great hall, the area nearly empty at this time of day. 

"You're going to have to ask your question in another way, little brother," Herger said, amused, putting his cup down on one of the posts. 

Clearing his throat in embarrassment, Ahmed spoke more slowly. "I was told the ship sails midday tomorrow, but when asked why so late, the only answer I received was 'tradition.'" 

Herger blinked at him. "If they say it's tradition, then it's a tradition." 

He waited for more, but when Herger remained quiet, Ahmed pressed further. "You do not know? Aren't they your kin?" 

"Ah, the ones you asked were Edgtho and Weath," Herger guessed, scratching the back of his head. "You should ask the others, as it's their land and their customs we follow, out of respect." 

Feeling a little foolish, Ahmed leaned against a post, back turned on the farmlands. "Are not all Northmen customs the same?" 

A smile graced his lips, and he shrugged, waving his hand halfheartedly. "There are the core truths that are known and practiced, but each clan having their own personal traditions is not uncommon." He looked straight ahead, over the village, still smiling pleasantly. 

Nodding at the logical response, Ahmed, glanced over his shoulder, out into the farmlands. "Why are you staying?" He blinked, surprised by his own question, and glanced back at his friend. 

Herger's smile faded into something softer, but he didn't fully turn to face Ahmed. "Weath and Edgtho have kin within the clan. I have no one." 

"You seemed content enough," Ahmed said tentatively, recalling how happy and at ease the Northman was at there camp. 

"Oh, aye, when Buliwyf was there." Herger's smile didn't quite fade, but it wasn't as bright as before. "We've been friends since lads." 

"I'm sorry," Ahmed said, heartfelt. He'd had no idea. 

Finally turning to look Ahmed in the eye, Herger smiled again. "It was a good death, one that was destined. I am not sad, little brother." He placed his hand on Ahmed's shoulder, squeezing companionably. 

"Yet you do not return with the others," Ahmed couldn't help but point out. 

"Look around you," Herger said, nodding to the village in general, "the place hasn't improved since our arrival. They've lost more people, in fact. Why shouldn't I stay and help rebuild?" 

Eyes downcast, Ahmed had to admit, once again, the logic was sound. "And that is your only reason for staying?" he asked quietly, unable to help himself. 

"Is that not reason enough?" Herger regarded him curiously, a glint to his eyes. 

"I have no kin as well," Ahmed said slowly, instead of answering, eyes downcast. 

"Aye, but you are now an ambassador, yes?" 

"In a word," he agreed. At Herger's raised eyebrow, he elaborated. "I was a not a warrior, and yet I think I've become something close to one." 

"I think you'll find that we think of you as a warrior, little brother," Herger said with a grin. He looked proud, almost. 

"And I think of you as friends," Ahmed said with a grin of his own. "Almost kin, in fact..." Strange to admit, especially when he spent so many days wondering how men such as them could exist, but after Ahmed traveled with them, learned their language, some of their customs, _spoke_ those words with them before battle, believing in those same words as if he _were_ a Northman, Ahmed cannot find any falsehood in the admission. 

Herger regarded him curiously again, face more serious, posture slightly more rigid than usual. "An Arab would not survive our winter," he said. 

Swallowing his nerves — which was ridiculous, for why should he be nervous? — Ahmed looked Herger in the eyes. "If I could become a warrior, could I not survive a winter?" 

"It is not unlikely," Herger admitted, still studying Ahmed. "What of your promise to Buliwyf?" 

"I could not forget this quest," he said, firm and heartfelt; forgetting this quest would be as if he forgot to breathe. "Besides, it would do good to learn more about his past," he continued, as nonchalant as he could manage, "about the others who journeyed with him." 

"Weath was right," Herger said after a few moments, a smile slowly appearing on his lips as his posture relaxed, "your wit is a good weapon." 

Ahmed opened his mouth, the question of how Herger heard about that conversation so quickly on his tongue, but then he paused, deciding that it didn't matter. He smiled instead, standing straighter as if prideful of the compliment. 

Herger laughed and draped an arm around Ahmed's shoulders, pulling him against his frame as Herger picked up his cup; he walked them into the great hall, where Edgtho and Weath sat at a table, readying the last of their supplies. 

Weath grinned when he saw them. "Has the Arab finally decided to stay?" 

"I have," Ahmed answered, eyebrow raising as he glanced at the three of them, questioning. Herger simply took a gulp from his cup.

"Pay up," Edgtho said, barely looking up from his task. 

"I didn't bet against you, you cheat," Weath said with a laugh. 

"You wagered I'd stay?" Ahmed asked, incredulous. He lightly jabbed his elbow in Herger's side when he felt the man chuckle. 

"It was obvious," Edgtho said, glancing at Ahmed like he was slow. 

"To everyone but you, which is amusing, considering your wit." Weath's grin was too wide for Ahmed's taste. 

"Indeed. You better keep an extra eye out for him, Herger." A hint of a smirk settled on Edgtho's lips. "Who knows what the winter will do to him." 

"I do not need to be coddled," Ahmed protested, certainly not pouting. Though, the unease in his stomach that had been from the thought of the voyage returned at the seemingly knowing looks Weath and Edtho shared. 

"Time will tell," Weath said with a gentle smile, no ill will in his tone or features. He deemed the conversation over, and he and Edgtho both returned their full attention to their task. 

Confused, Ahmed glanced up at Herger, who'd been strangely quiet throughout the conversation, and he only received a smile in reply. "Would you coddle me?" he asked, eyebrow raised, skeptical. 

"It would depend on my mood, I think," Herger answered, amused as he offered his mug to Ahmed. "However, you are stubborn." 

Huffing, Ahmed took the mug, taking a nice gulp just to be petulant. His action caused Herger to grin wide, showing off his teeth, as he squeezed Ahmed closer to him. The unease in his stomach finally settled, and Ahmed breathed lighter. It would be all right, staying here for the winter. Herger would be with him, and he would learn more about the Northmen, about Buliwyf. 

And he would learn more about Herger. Ahmed would brave the winter for that alone.


End file.
